Moments in a Pensieve
by Prof. Cassandra Nightingale
Summary: I'm not giving anything away except this: it is as the title suggests; i.e. moments in a pensieve. btw, this was previously called "moments" but there are so many other fanfics called "moments" so I changed it, so please don't get confused
1. An Ending

Well, this is my 1st fanfic and im not gonna give anything away so hope you enjoy it.

(Disclaimer thing: I don't own any Harry Potter stuff)

The grounds stretched out before him, an eerie blue under the orb floating amongst the wisps of grey shifting and stirring in the breeze. He stared out at the world that had become utterly insignificant in the past hour. He lifted his hand and without looking down, pressed it over the lit wick of the candle on the sill. The flame ripped up his arm and he pressed harder glaring out at the stars.

He lifted his hand and examined the palm; the surface in bubbles like boiling water caught in time and covered in wax, becoming stiffer by the second. He let it sit a moment before thinking _scourgify _then _episkey_. The bubbles disappeared but the pain throbbed in his chest. He knew it wasn't from the candle.


	2. Mourning Morning

The figures cloaked in black dispersed in their grief. Just a few, all that was left. The best friend wasn't present, he noticed with a grim smirk. Of course, the man couldn't be.

After the last had pitifully turned and hobbled away to immerse themselves in their own tears he appeared at the edge of the area. He flew purposefully as his cloak billowed about him. Hands dug deep into his pockets. His hair swept across his face. He slithered between the angels and crosses. The flags snapped against their poles. He gathered pace. A crow called. The trees bent. Twigs cracked.

He stopped.

He stared at the earth by his toes. Newly dug earth. His eyes flicked to its twin. _Bastard_. He looked back to the earth before him as his eyes blurred.


	3. Leave

"Severus"

He didn't move.

"How long do you plan-"

"Leave"

"Severus-"

"Leave"

"You-"

_Pop_.


	4. A New Page

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

There was a pause. _Click_. The heavy oak doors swung open.

"It _is_ good to see you. I must admit, I doubted you would accept. You have proven me wrong, though it doesn't happen often, and I am glad you did."

No response. He penetrated the headmaster's eyes with his own.

"Come in, come in. I will take you to your quarters."

He gazed around at the hall he had been ushered into. His new home.


	5. Back to School

"Welcome back to most of you, and welcome to the first years, I hope you will enjoy your stay with us as much as a bowtruckle loves a feast of woodlice…" The bat rolled his eyes and watched the clouds shifting on the ceiling above as the old man kept talking.

"…speaking of feasts, we will, of course, enjoy a delicious meal in just a moment, but first! I must say a few things. First of all, I am sure you will all provide a very warm welcome to our new potions professor…"

The bat froze. He lowered his gaze slowly until he could see the students staring back at him. _Vermin, every single one. _Then the headmaster was talking about timetables and what-not and the students' eyes drifted from his drawn face, apart from a terrified few.


	6. All in Your Head

_Years passed slowly, each step agonizing without her. Then finally, he came. Her only remaining blood, tainted blood, but her blood nonetheless._

* * *

He woke early that morning to find that he had a sensation, something he hadn't felt in many years. It was her. He shook his head trying to clear his head of the feeling but it didn't go. He walked to the window and tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the dusty pane. It must simply be the remnants of a dream, a nightmare that only his subconscious remembered. He forced it to the back of his mind.

A few minutes later, pulling his cloak around him, he strode into the crisp, sunrise-lit grounds.


	7. The Boy Who Lived

Minerva was, as usual conducting the Sorting. The students cheered each time the Sorting Hat called a house. The bat sat, petulant, gazing up at the enchanted ceiling. He traced the faint outline of Capricorn while his mind wandered. _I wouldn't mind being the Sorting Hat. Work once a year; pick a random house, easy. No, I would hate to be the Hat; coming into __contact__ with that many vermin, ugh. _One after another, the first years had the Hat dropped on their head, each one being sorted and skipping off to join their peers. Each one escaped his attention. Moon, Nott, Parkinson, Patil, Patil, Perks…Potter.

His breath caught. He didn't move a muscle, nothing would give him away. His eye twitched under the strain. The Headmaster glanced to him for a moment before leaning forward on the table and focusing his attention back onto the small boy. The bat didn't see why, it was obvious what house the boy would go to, and yet he too sat with bated breath, his eyes firmly set upon the stars above.

He was right, of course, and her blood sat where it had before.

* * *

I know that Capricorn would not really be visible high enough in the sky in England early in September to be seen on the ceiling of the great hall if it really is a perfect replica of the true sky, but it is his sun sign, so it had to be Capricorn. In any case it's called fan-_fiction_ for a reason.


	8. Stolen Eyes

Dear friends,

Sorry I haven't updated in so long, its been hectic lately, and it is likely it continue in the same way over the next few weeks, so please don't really expect anything until the first or second week of October. If I can update before then I will, but if not, sorry.

Secondly, (and I'm sorry I need to say this) if you are going to review, make it something that is worth making the effort of typing because I am sick to death of reading petty pedantic comments that are wrong half of the time anyway. If you wish for further detail, I will be happy to publicly provide it, however I am sure you know what I am talking about and if I am even writing to you. I am sorry, but I am starting to feel that it is not worth my while finishing this fanfic, let alone even thinking of beginning another.

So, to all; if you are enjoying this, let my know, likewise, if you think its a load of crap, let me know because there are a million things more worthwhile that I could be doing right now, just tell me and I will stop.

Thankyou very much to those of you who do write worthwhile comments. I think perhaps I may neglect you a little by not replying, but then perhaps it is a good thing as it means nearly all of my writing effort is spent on the fanfiction itself rather than conversing with my readers.

Yours sincerely,

Prof. Cassandra Nightingale

* * *

The Headmaster stood and addressed the school.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat as the feast appeared upon the tables. The bat closed his eyes. _I grow weary of this_. He went to leave, just as Quirinus turned to converse with him.

_Stuttering fool._

The sensation returned stronger than in the morning. His eyes flicked to the source and he found her emerald eyes staring back at him. His mind instinctively reached out, but snapped back as realisation and hatred filled his eyes. The boy flinched in pain and clapped a hand to the forehead above the eyes that he had stolen from her. It was over in a split second.

He consciously detained his mind severely as he tried to focus on what the idiot beside him was stuttering.


	9. Like Father, Like Son

Dear faithful friends,

I apologise most profusely for this rather long intermission, and hope you will not hold a grudge for too long. I intend on updating regularly again as much as possible. Please continue to read and review. Also, if you would care to take part in my poll on my profile, I would be much obliged. Thankyou for all your support and I look forward to reading more reviews!

Yours sincerely,

Prof. Cassandra Nightingale.

* * *

_Friday, finally: another week closer to leaving this God-forsaken place permanently._ But there was a problem. He took the liberty to glance at his timetable. Not that he needed to, he just had to eradicate any possibility that he may have been wrong. He chuckled darkly, _impossible_. He thought for a moment as a smirk crept across his face. The tables had turned; he was the one in power now. The boy (if you could call it that), the incarnation of its father, was a mere rodent. A rodent that he could easily squish before it became its father.


	10. Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge

Another disclaimer: Yes, if the title of this chapter did look familiar, that is because I 'borrowed' it from the title of 'My Chemical Romance's second last album from approximately 2004. It fit, so I used it, a little intertextual referencing never did any harm.

Dear readers,

I personally quite like this chapter, but feel feel to criticise it as much as you should care to. Perhaps it is just that it really brings out Sev's psychoanalytically sadistic side...

In any case, please review. I apologise for not updating as soon as I said I would, my internet was 'down' (long story). Never the less, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Yours truly,

Prof. Cassandra Nightingale.

* * *

'Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_.' The boy shrank before him. _That feels so…good_. He finished the register absent-mindedly, sadistically savouring the discomfort of the rodent before him. He proceeded to give the little speech he usually gave to the first years, and as usual, they sat captivated by the whispered words until the final full stop. As he did he peeked into the rodent's pitiful head and found his knowledge, or rather, lack there-of, of potions. He smirked internally before launching in to the humiliating interrogation.

'Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

He smelt the delicious scent of perplexity waft from the rodent's mind and smiled internally while he sneered at the boy's answer. The muggle born's hand almost escaped his notice, but he had just begun and was certainly not about to relinquish one of the few most satisfying moments he had had since…

'Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything… Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

He relished the sharp pang of trepidation that consumed the rodent, as his internal smile became a grin.

'Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?' He felt the boy struggle inside to both look away and to maintain eye contact with his black, penetrating gaze.

'What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

He tasted the sweetness of embarrassment and his internal grin became laughter, but was cut short by the rodent's next comment.

'I don't know, I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?'

He would make the rodent rue the day it dared cross the bat…


End file.
